Vergil's Ledger
by GinaeEvans
Summary: A series of entries taken from the journal of Vergil Sparda. These are in no particular order and will include passages from his childhood as well as adulthood. Warnings: Gore, violence and some sexual content. Also, Vergil is mean.
1. Chapter 1

I've been in a bit of a vicious mood lately. The warm fuzzies are distant memory. To compensate, I've started this section to sate my violent desires whenever they happen to strike. Sometimes, I believe it's a very good thing that I am able to vent using words alone.

**Warnings: These are Vergil's thoughts. Innately, he is a violent creature and his musings reflect that. Don't read if you're at all squeamish about some gore.**

* * *

One of the earliest memories I have is that of mother feeding Dante and myself in our highchairs. Invariably, the highchairs would be brand new or close to, as we were able to escape from them rather easily. Of course, by escape I mean destroy.

Even as toddlers, we were terribly strong. Not to mention determined little escape artists. We hated being fettered down, even for a brief time during meals. The two of us were precocious children, to put it lightly. The devil's blood that flowed through our veins must have made it incredibly difficult on the poor woman. More than once, I trust that mother wished nothing more than to pull out her own hair in frustration. And perhaps ours as well.

Brilliant, strong, willful devil-children would drive anyone mad.

I digress.

As I was saying; she would feed us side-by-side. Dante would often refuse to eat if I was not nearby; likewise for myself. I recall my favorite meal being small bloody hunks of raw meat. It didn't at all matter what sort of animal it had come from, and it was especially tasty if it was a fresh kill. Still warm and wriggling a tad? Splendid! And the younger the better.

I'd always had a preference for young flesh.

Mother would coo and smile at us while we fed.

I remember smiling back at her and waving a chubby, blood-covered hand, "Ma-ma! I eat!"

Dante would babble agreeably (Surprisingly enough, speech was not an early specialty of his; though, you'd never know it now) and cram as much meat as he could into his mouth to show her how delicious the meal was. His cheeks would bulge to twice their normal size, and bits of blood and gore would leak from the corners of his lips. Even so, he would stuff more in; attempting to demonstrate how fierce and voracious he could be.

In turn, I would do the same; chewing loudly with the sharp baby teeth we'd been born with. It would become a competition. Each of us would snarl and growl at the other while tearing apart the chunks of meat with tiny hands.

_Look, mother. See how we devour the flesh of the weak. See how merciless we can be. See how we _want_ to make the blood flow;_ rivers_ of it_._ See our strength. See what we will become. _

Our display of ferocity was instinctive. In the demon world, it is a nestling's job to please their parents with such shows of strength. Lest the parent dismiss them as weak, and eat said offspring. Strength, above all, was revered. Might makes right; a concept I've always agreed with.

Weak spawn reflected badly upon the parents, who would then be torn apart themselves for producing wretched, worthless children.

We must have appeared absolutely horrifying. Yet, she never, _never_ disciplined us for showing our true nature. If anything, she encouraged it. Perhaps she knew what our future held. Why not instill a sense of the importance of strength in your children? Especially if it was all but a certainty that they'd need it in the future?

We were always ravenous. Born with a savage blood lust; both figuratively and literally.

Even now I am sometimes guilty of slaughtering the livestock of farmers who frequent the countryside near my home. Sheep are my favorite. Especially little lambs that shriek and writhe in agony as I eat them alive. I often smile while doing so, for their screams are just as appetizing as their meat. Sometimes, I believe there is nothing better than the feeling of thick, hot blood running down my throat even whilst the prey is still twitching.

Stupid, bleating creatures. They deserve no better.

Unfortunately, I have to do this in secret. If my mate found out, I fear she would turn away from me in disgust. I cannot have that. Not after the bliss I've known from being with her.

Devils, unlike humans, can sustain themselves on the negative emotions of lesser creatures. Hate, despair, anger, fear, pain; all tasty tidbits to me and incredibly abundant nowadays. I would feed upon others until I burst if I was so inclined. Luckily for them, I am more than able to distract myself with other amusements.

Fighting is likely at the top of the list. Luckily, I've Dante for that. Otherwise, I'd have no worthy outlet for my savagery.

Knowledge is a close second. One can never, never know all there is to know. Change is the only constant, after all.

Sex is right behind the first two. Admittedly however, this particular activity is a _new_ favorite of mine. _She_ showed me how much I was missing. Alas, I cannot be as rough with her as I'd like, but with the help of some blue and gold orbs, the little woman can actually take quite a pounding. Pun intended. Moreover, her screams are some of the most delicious I've ever had. And afterwards? She does not reject nor hate nor fear me; she smiles and asks for more. She is magnificent.

Again, I digress.

Killing.

Yes.

Ultimately, killing is incredibly satisfying to me. I love murder.

In my younger, more theatrical days, it didn't make much of a difference if the victim was human or demon. I just wanted to cleave through bone and skin. I still do. I want to bite and rip and tear and shred the flesh of innocents. I want to bathe in their sorrow. I want to eat their fear. I want to break them and crush them and stomp them into the ground until they are nothing.

Frankly, they _are_ nothing.

Luckily, I have also mastered the art of self-control. Even while triggered.

I wonder how father stood it. Being trapped, all but a fraction of his power gone, amongst the cattle who'd like nothing more than to destroy him. Even though he sacrificed so much for them.

Fools.

It still escapes me why father found so much worth in these primates.

There must be some key element that I am missing. Or, perhaps, lacking.

Perhaps I will find out one day.


	2. Chapter 2

Do not misunderstand my intentions. There is no specific purpose to these pages. No special meaning, nor ulterior motive. Nor is there any attempt at explaining myself or my actions. If you're looking for causality, search elsewhere.

This is merely an activity that amuses me. Nothing more. If it so happens that my enjoyment wanes, so too will these words.

Still, it's a hobby that I've kept up since childhood. And I must admit that going back to read some of my earlier installments tickles me. I was so naïve as a child. I still am in some respects.

For example; my prior views on friendship and intimacy.

The following is an excerpt taken from this very ledger. As I recall, I had just turned five.

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_Mother got angry with me again today. She accused me of being 'unkind' to that little girl who wanted to eat lunch with me. I don't think I was, though. Only honest. I told her that eating with her would likely make me vomit. And it would have. These younglings disgust me even when they aren't trying to talk to me with a mouth full of food._

_ Mother tells me that I am rude and must try harder to be nice to the other children. That it is the right thing to do. _

_To what end, though? I am unimpressed by them. Utterly. And, really, what makes something right or wrong? Truthfully, they seem entirely subjective to me. What if I had been 'nice' to her? What if I had humored her and then, in fact, thrown up on her? Wouldn't that have been even worse? Is the real message here to be dishonest?_

_Humans are confusing. Even mother's values elude me._

_Her frustration with me is becoming more and more frequent. She is starting to understand just how inhuman I really am. She never has to explain these things to Dante, and she doesn't seem to grasp just why I don't get it. I wonder if she and father ever had these types of arguments. _

_I miss father. I understood him. He made _sense_._

_Dante understands them. He doesn't have any problems socializing with his peers. Not like I do. I once asked him how and he just smiled at me and shrugged, "Just can, Verge. I get them."_

_I don't. Nor do I want to._

_They flock to Dante. He has a natural charismatic charm._

_I don't. Just the opposite, in fact._

_He appreciates it when the girls tell him he's cute. Or that they like his hair or eyes._

_I don't. I hate the attention I receive from these future trollops. In fact, in an attempt to end it, I once tried to disfigure my face. I took a straight razor to it, but I healed in seconds. Damn it all._

_When I do make an attempt at conversation, I leave them in the dust. They don't understand the words I use. They call me 'weird' for using them. Apparently, the humans view intelligent conversation with contempt. They are much more interested in appearance and materialistic gain._

_Simple, idiotic bovines._

_It's exhausting, trying to dumb myself down just to _try_ and associate __with beings whom I'd much rather not._

_Why can't I just be left alone? Is that so wrong? Is it so unusual?_

_Apparently, it is._

_Sometimes, just before we fall asleep, Dante and I will chat. This is usually the time where we discuss just how different we are. From each other, as well as from every other child we knew._

_One time I asked him how he can seem to be so content with father gone. He said he was sad at first, and then the hurt went away as the days passed._

_Sad? Hurt?_

_I asked him to define these terms._

_He gave me the strangest look and asked me if I knew what sad was._

_I shook my head._

_He asked me if I knew what happy was._

_I shook my head._

_Dante frowned a little, then asked me what I felt like on the inside._

_I told him that I felt empty. That I had ever since father had disappeared._

_"How can you not know what sad and happy are, Vergil? That's just weird."_

_Even my own twin thinks I'm strange. Father never did. He always seemed to know where I was coming from. I never had to discuss silly, abstract ideas like 'happy' or 'sad' with him. He understood me. We got each other. Sometimes, we didn't even need to use words to communicate. Just like I don't need to actually speak to Dante in order to talk with him. _

_I miss him._

_Without him, the void within me is expanding._

_Soon, I suspect it will engulf me completely._

\\/

There, now. You see? Very amusing. I chuckle every time I reread this particular passage. "Out of the mouths of babes" and all of that.

I was very articulate for my age. I've always been a wordsmith. Truly, it's a cruel joke. I am one who is eloquent to the point of fault, yet I detest speaking to people. The powers that be must be having quite a laugh at my expense.

At any rate, this ramble has gone on about long enough. I don't even understand why I've returned to this ledger after so long. Indeed, my last memorandum is over seven years old.

Oh, yes. I remember now.

My initial reason for this entry was to document the fact that I am now under contract to protect and share my home with a human female.

Fate, you are a cruel, cruel mistress.

I picked her up from the airport last night and wasted no time in establishing the pecking order. She seemed rather soft-spoken and easily swayed, which suited me just fine. Until this morning when I discovered how much of a little smart ass she is. Imagine, speaking back to a devil, in his own nest no less. Actually, now that I think on it, she likely didn't realize what I was at first. Now though, she does. And still, she attempts to befriend me.

It's strange. She doesn't seem to be unintelligent. I wonder what my allure is.

In the past, I've found that being unpleasant and threatening, despite my good-looks, is usually more than enough to ensure my privacy. With her, however, it wasn't. She didn't even appear daunted by it.

I must admit that I'm just the slightest bit intrigued.

On a final note, there is one point that I must bring up, though it pains me to admit it. It is fact that I was taken aback when my inner beast was tempted to answer her challenge. To cow her and make her submit to him and myself.

It was... Surprising. I haven't felt an urge like that in...

Never.

Not towards a human, anyhow. Why bother? They're worthless.

Surely, this was just a momentary lapse in my self-control. Nothing more.

... There was a knock on my bedroom door just now. The damned girl keeps trying to cook for me.

This will not end well.


	3. Chapter 3

We move around a lot. For obvious reasons. Namely, because mother is on the run. Oh, she tries to hide the fact from Dante and myself, but we know. We are the spawn of the ultimate traitor. She was his mate. She bred with him. Demon and hunter alike are after my mother. And us.

Hence, the vigorous relocating.

With new neighborhoods and school districts come new problems.

Bullies, mostly.

They are usually the male children, as the females find me and Dante 'cute'.

Disgusting.

Thankfully, my twin is more than willing to take my share of the admirers for himself. It's better that way. Contrary to what my mother believes, I take no joy in making the girls cry when I reject their advances. I hate their tears, actually. It shows me just how weak they really are. Do they honestly think that I would lower myself in such a way? Kiss them? Touch them? Please. I can hardly stand to look at them. Pretty or not.

And yes, I can distinguish human beauty. I'm just not interested in it.

Tangent aside, back to the topic at hand.

As I've said; with the new territory comes new shows of dominance from the local male primates.

Just towards me, however. They always like Dante and welcome him to join their ball games and such.

Apparently, if the females show more interest in a new male than that of the current 'alphas', despite my doing absolutely nothing to provoke it, it makes one a target for harassment. Being a loner didn't help matters much, either.

I know this. I've done research on human behaviors, seeing as I don't have any myself. If I'm to blend, I have to at least pretend like I know how to be human.

Not Dante, though. He is always the popular one.

Not that I care in the least. I prefer being left to my own devices. I don't bother anyone. I can't be arsed to. It's boring.

In fact, the only time I do retaliate is when one of them is foolish enough to start a physical altercation with me. Afterwards, word usually spreads quickly that I am not to be trifled with.

Today's account was different. I went a little too far this time. I might be subject to some unpleasant backlash.

We've been at this new school for several months now. As per usual, Dante made friends with the other children whereas I kept to myself on the play yard. Quite often, I'll be reading a book of some sort as I rarely associate with any of them.

This particular school was an elementary school combined with a secondary school. The ages of the children ran from as young as five to thirteen and fourteen.

I've just turned eight.

But I am big for my age. And tall. My physique is already well-muscled and ready for battle. Often, I am mistaken for much older than I really am. Because of this, a group of teenaged girls had taken to sit on the benches by me at lunchtime, where I normally read. They flip their hair, giggle loudly, and shoot obvious coy glances my way.

And, as always, I ignore it all.

Today, though, it didn't make a difference.

One of them was bold enough to sit next to me a give me a nudge.

Annoyed, I gave her a sidelong glance and nothing more.

"You're cute."

I didn't answer.

"Your name is Vergil, right?"

I didn't answer.

"My name is Lillian. What grade are you in?"

Finally, I looked over at her. Glared, actually. "Go away, Lillian."

She seemed surprised, "How come?"

"Because your voice is making me sick. As well as the stench of perfume you've seemed to have marinated yourself in this morning."

She gasped and, as expected, her eyes filled with tears. Off she scampered with her little twat-brigade. Off to the girl's restroom, where they would, no doubt, dry her eyes and re-stuff her bra and assure her that she was the prettiest one of all.

Later, after classes had ended, Dante stayed late for some sort of after school activity. As such, I walked home alone.

I enjoyed it. I strolled at my leisure. Until I was suddenly surrounded by a barrage of older boys.

Looking around, I saw the exact same group of girls standing off to one side. Watching. She'd told on me. Obviously. This gang of ruffians was the result. They were here to defend her dubious honor.

They hurled insults at me; "Albino!" "Freak!" "Nerd!"

Nothing I hadn't heard dozens of times before. This went on for a good while and I was actually beginning to become bored with it all. Usually, the name calling would either end, or it would escalate. Until it did, however, I merely stood there and pretended to be dismayed with my current situation. The largest boy there finally stepped forward and demanded an apology on his sister's behalf.

"No," I replied.

He swung without warning and hit me in the mouth. I felt my lips being crushed against my teeth. I felt them burst open and there was an explosion of vivid red. I healed almost instantly. Luckily, because of all the blood, it still appeared that I was injured and he didn't notice.

Again, he demanded that I apologize.

"No. Your sister is a future whore. I can smell it on her. It's foul and nauseating."

Gasps all around.

Again, he swung. This time, I caught his fist and squeezed.

He screamed and I let go before I did any serious damage.

The bully went to his knees, cradling his sprained hand against his chest. He didn't heal instantly. I smiled down at him, my own blood covering my front teeth. I imagine I appeared incredibly gruesome. Good. That would give them something else to relay to any other who'd dare try something as foolish as he. To my great surprise, however, all of them rushed me at once.

There was some pain as they rained punches and kicks down onto me, but it was negligible. Perhaps they thought they were giving me quite a thrashing. Patiently, I waited until they'd tired themselves out before I got to my feet again.

A small distance away, there was a chain link fence. It was old and falling apart. One of the metal posts had toppled over. I walked over to it and ignored the jeering behind me. They obviously thought that I was fleeing. Instead, though, I picked up the post and walked back over to them. The lead primate, despite his injuries, laughed at me.

"Ooh! The pretty boy has a big stick now. Whatcha gonna do, cutie? Hit me wiff it?" There was more chortling.

I didn't answer. Instead, I held the post at arm's length in front of me, one hand on each end. Slowly, I began to bend the metal, then I twisted it until it snapped in two.

They weren't laughing anymore.

I deliberately walked up to the lead boy and stared at him. He met my gaze frankly enough, but I could smell the fear on him.

"How old are you?" I asked.

He didn't answer so I hit him with one half of the ruined post. He flew backwards and landed on his back end. I'd split his head open. Blood flowed freely down the side of his face.

This made me laugh. I love blood.

"How old are you?" I asked again. "And you had better answer me this time."

"I-I'm sixteen," he replied, clutching his skull.

I knelt down in front of him and leaned close until our noses almost touched, "I'm only eight and I've bested you. You're nothing. If you ever bother me again, I will do to you what I just did to this pole. Only I will start with your fingers. And then your toes. Then your arms. Then your legs. And I won't stop until I've shattered every single bone in your body. And after I've left you a broken, twisted wreck before me? I'll start in on your slut sister. As well as the rest of your family."

With that, I turned and left them standing in my wake. Speechless. Once home, I hid the bloody clothing and showered. My wounds had healed and, barring a call from an angry mother, the evening would go on as it normally did.

At least I should have some peace for the duration that we remain. Once the gossip starts. Then, when we move, the cycle will begin all over again.

There has to be more to life than this. What will become of me if there isn't?


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys. I've decided that I really like writing as Vergil. :) This entry is a request as well. ScarletBee wanted a drabble about the time Vergil had to defend his children from a demon attack. Here you are, doll. I hope you like it.

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I had fun today.

Of course, my idea of fun might differ greatly from others. Still, fun is fun.

My boy-child asked permission to take his sister to the park for some fresh air and childlike frolicking. I was not opposed. The playground is a mere half block away. If I concentrate a bit, I can actually hear them playing and shouting to one another from my study. I can keep easily an ear out for danger, if need be. Which I generally do whenever they are out and about.

Preternatural hearing is an absolute necessity when one is a parent. I honestly don't know how the humans manage their young without it. For that, they deserve a tad of admiration.

Just a tad, though.

As I was saying; the boy took his sister to the park. My mate was out with Lady. Doing what, I've no clue. I assumed she would come back hyped up on sugar, however. Those two are notorious for having voracious sweet-tooths when together. Knowing this, I set about preparing the bedroom for her arrival. She tends to climb all over me when in the throes of a sugar-induced fit, and she often initiates wrestling matches. Which invariably leads to other activities. Not that I have any complaints.

I was attaching the restraints to the bedposts when I heard my daughter scream.

If I hadn't know fear before, I was completely in its clutches now.

Instantly, I was outside and halfway to the playground before I got an idea of what was going on. My demonic senses had picked up on the energy of some lesser demons.

Attacking _my_ children? They would pay.

I arrived on the outskirts of the park just in time to see my boy shove his sister behind him. He had managed to find a large, club-like branch and was brandishing it threateningly at a group of seven Hell Vanguards, who'd tragically decided to have a go at my offspring. Just before I got within reach, I saw my son pivot and actually parry a slashing attack from one of them. Had he a better weapon, it would have been an admirable attempt. Unfortunately, the scythe tore right through the fragile wooden club, leaving him defenseless. They rearranged their formation. My son couldn't keep his eyes on all of them at once.

They were playing with them. Toying with _my_ offspring. Feeding off of their fear and pain. Feeding on m_y_ children. Enjoying their torment.

My three-year-old daughter was screaming and crying. And bleeding.

Wounded? They harmed my little girl?

I saw red, but their demise came about in a storm of blue.

The next few moments are a little hazy, admittedly. I lost my cool. Bad Vergil. One must always keep their head, no matter how enraged.

When I regained my composure, however, only one Vanguard remained. The rest had melted away in a cloud of blue dust. The solitary demon appeared dismayed. As it should have. My son was staring at me with his mouth open. Admiration was written across his features. My daughter had stopped her shrieking, and also watched me with wide, adoring eyes.

"Daddy!" she shouted, charging at me with wide open arms.

She flung herself at me and curled herself around my leg. Even though I was still triggered. She did not fear me or my devil. The blood I'd smelled on her seemed to be coming from a scrape on her knee. As far as I could tell, she had no other injuries. The relief that flowed through me was staggering.

"Dad!"

The boy-child ran at me next, all while keeping an eye on the remaining threat. Good boy.

I was so impressed with his show of bravado, that I decided to allow him a special treat. Gently, I untangled my daughter's arms from my leg and teleported behind the last Hell Vanguard. With Yamato, I sliced through its skeletal hands, crippling it enough for my son to dispatch himself.

I shoved the thing towards my boy, who, though obviously frightened and confused, still stood his ground. Again, I was overwhelmed with a sense of pride. My brave son had run from _nothing_. Regardless of how badly he was outnumbered.

I spoke to him, "Your first kill."

His eyes bulged and he swallowed audibly.

However, when I offered Yamato to him with a nod, he needed no more encouragement.

He took my prized weapon from me with a reverence that befitted it; just before he swung it in a deadly arc. His form was flawless, he'd obviously been taking his lessons seriously.

The Hell Vanguard's skull rolled across the grassy park with an expression of dull surprise still on its rudimentary face, just before it too melted away into nothing. After, my boy threw back his head and let out a savage cry of triumph. I roared right along with him. And, after a moment, Peanut added her own cries into the fray.

Today was an exceptional day.


End file.
